


Shadow Box

by burymeonpluto



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, I didn't know what to tag the relationship, Loss, M/M, Mentions of Sora/Riku, Road Trips, Sex Worker, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, implied past sexual abuse, it's messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burymeonpluto/pseuds/burymeonpluto
Summary: Riku hires Vanitas to pose as his lover and accompany him on a long road trip. Sounds easy enough, but Vanitas should know by now that there's no such thing as easy money.
Relationships: Riku & Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts), Riku/Vanitas (Kingdom Hearts)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	Shadow Box

  
  
  
It’s a job like any other. Vanitas gets picked up, played with, and let go. Night after night. Nothing ever changes. But at least it pays the bills.  
  
He raises up out of the white sheets of the hotel bed and runs a hand through his hair. He could use a shower. Sounds like it’s still occupied, though.  
  
This is a particularly nice hotel, even for one of his customers. It has large window with a sweeping view of the city skyline. The tall buildings’ inorganic edges devour the desert sky like shards of broken dreams. Vanitas stretches his arms above his head until his body clicks back into place.  
  
Well. He can always shower at home. He clicks his tongue as he fishes his boxers from the floor. And after he was paid extra to stay the whole night, too. He was looking forward to the hotel’s endless hot water. What a waste.  
  
Vanitas is stepping into his boxers as the guy emerges from the bathroom. He’s attractive, broad-shouldered, clothed in simple jeans and a t-shirt, and toweling his hair dry. It’s a mess of lavender-silver locks, and when it’s damp the ends are near translucent.  
  
“Good morning,” he says, and Vanitas has to do a double-take.  
  
That’s a first. Once the deed is done, most people won’t even look at Vanitas, let alone speak to him. “Morning…”  
  
He lays the towel around his neck and leans against the wall. Green eyes stay fixed on Vanitas’s face, and nothing else. “I’ve got another proposition for you.”  
  
There it is. Vanitas sets a hand on his hip, on nothing but the waistband of his boxer shorts. “My rates are the same, day or night.”  
  
“No, it’s not like that. I want to hire you for a few days.”  
  
“ _Days_?” Vanitas exclaims. “That’s not really my type of work. But I know I guy who—”  
  
“ _No_. It has to be you.” His voice is firm. Unwavering. His hands tighten around his arms. There’s no changing his mind.  
  
 _But why me?_  
  
“I’ll pay you well for it,” he continues before Vanitas can ask. “I’m planning a trip. I want you to come with me.”  
  
 _Suspicious._ Vanitas chews on his bruised lip. “What’s the catch?”  
  
“No catch. We don’t even have to have sex. I just need you to act like we’re together. Like lovers on a road trip.”  
  
“Hmm. Sounds easy enough,” he says, finding and pulling on his jeans. “Depends on the pay, and whether or not I think you’re a serial killer.”  
  
“How’s eight-thousand for the four days? I’ll pay half up-front, and the other half when we get there.” Then he pauses where most people would laugh, but all he does is blink. “And if I really was a serial killer, wouldn’t I have killed you by now?”  
  
Vanitas kisses his teeth. “Spoken like a man who knows _nothing_ about the psychology of serial killers.” There’s no reaction, not that Vanitas truly expected one. This guy is such a weirdo.  
  
But that eight-thousand dollars is tempting. Getting money like that would be life-changing. He could finally get out of this place, out from under the thumb of this damn city. He could do anything.  
  
He’s already made up his mind as he pulls the shirt down over his head. “Okay. But if you do anything weird, or try to murder me, I’m taking the four grand and leaving and you’re not getting it back. Got it?”  
  
The guy nods. “Fair enough.”  
  
He makes a note to take a weapon with him. Just in case. “So, when is this trip you’re planning?”  
  
“Meet me downstairs tomorrow morning. 9 o’clock.” That’s awfully soon, but Vanitas bites his tongue. He’s getting paid, after all, and it’s not like he has anywhere else to be. “I’ll have the first four-thousand, as promised.”  
  
“Then I’ll be there.”  
  
  
-  
  
  
This guy is either a nutcase, a murderer, or a lonely weirdo, and Vanitas can’t decide which option he hates the most.  
  
Vanitas meets him in the ground floor parking garage of the hotel. He’s rummaging through some bags in the trunk of a car with an unfamiliar license plate. Probably a rental.  
  
Vanitas opts to keep his backpack with him in the front seat. He’s always been one for packing light. He doesn’t have much to his name, anyway, much less anything _important_.  
  
The guy hands him an envelope full of money. The promised four-thousand dollars. Vanitas does a quick, discreet inspection. Seems to be real, and all of it. He tucks the envelope into an inner compartment of his backpack.  
  
The guy is still digging for something in the back. _Guy_. His customer? Vanitas has never had a need for names. Most people prefer to keep it impersonal. Vanitas slides up next to him. “So, what should I call you? Since we’re supposed to be _lovers_ ‘n all.”  
  
“Huh? Just call me by my name,” he says, like it’s so obvious.  
  
Vanitas deadpans. “Then… _what is it_?”  
  
He makes an accomplished sound and pulls an old jean jacket out of the trunk. It’s light denim blue and speckled with patches of everything from punk rock bands to humanitarian organizations to cute cartoon desserts with faces. He places it over Vanitas’s shoulders—a little small, a little musty—and the softest smile overcomes his face. “You forgot your jacket _and_ my name?” he chuckles. “What am I going to do with you?”  
  
 _What’s happening?_  
  
“It’s Riku. Be sure to remember it this time, okay?”  
  
A nutcase, a murderer, or a lonely weirdo. Out of those options, all three is definitely the worst. Vanitas grits his teeth, and ignores the nervous twisting in his stomach. It’s only four days. He can do this.  
  
  
-  
  
  
“Where are we going, anyway?” Vanitas asks as they approach the city limits. If all goes well, this will be the last time he ever sets foot in this godforsaken place.  
  
Riku doesn’t look up from the road. “The Cape.”  
  
“That far?” Vanitas sputters. No wonder it’ll take four days.  
  
“We’re going to see the old lighthouse.”  
  
Just for that? “Wouldn’t it have been easier to fly there?”  
  
Hands tighten around the steering wheel. “No,” and something in his tone ends the conversation there.  
  
Vanitas shrugs it off. They drive out into the nothingness that surrounds the city. It’s a barren desert, where even the earth has been sucked dry. Anything good ran far from here a long time ago. Vanitas watches the buildings disappear behind hills and beneath the horizon, until it’s gone. He lets out a deep breath, feeling lighter already.  
  
Riku watches the road way too closely. There aren’t any turns or curves, but that face is so serious. Vanitas wonders what he’s thinking so hard about, but ultimately decides that he doesn’t care and starts playing a stupid game on his phone.  
  
It’s quiet.  
  
The radio just barely cuts above the road noise and wind. Riku still isn’t saying anything. He’s just driving in silence. Why did he even pay for Vanitas to accompany him if he isn’t going to speak?  
  
It’s been a long time. Vanitas’s leg is bouncing. How irritating. He digs into the backpack at his feet and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. He lays his chosen stick between his lips and flicks the lighter.  
  
“You’re not supposed to smoke.”  
  
Vanitas rolls his eyes and lets the lighter go out. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do whatever it is _we’re_ doing either.”  
  
“Don’t do it around me,” he drones in that same dead register.  
  
“Then pull over before I have a fucking nic fit.”  
  
He makes Vanitas stand outside the car, so he storms out of sight and leans against the trunk before lighting up. He props his foot on the bumper and takes a long drag. Good thing he’s used to smoking alone along the side of the road. Oncoming traffic is sparse, at best. Vanitas takes his time, savoring his smoke. It looks like he’s gonna need it. The two packs he brought along might not be enough.  
  
The car shifts as Riku leans out the window. “Hurry up.”  
  
Vanitas takes a deep breath and prays for strength. “Four days,” he breathes, and stomps out the butt of his cigarette. “It’s only four days.”  
  
He returns to the car, and they pull back onto the highway. That annoying silence creeps back in. Vanitas plays on his phone for a while longer, until the screen goes black. _Useless garbage._ He sighs and tries to focus on the radio, but it’s too soft and too fuzzy to make out. His gaze drifts out the window, but there’s nothing to see. They’re still in the middle of nowhere.  
  
That only leaves the driver; this weirdo who’s refused any attempt at conversation. Weren’t they supposed to be _lovers_? But with no other stimuli, Vanitas is keenly aware of every twitch Riku makes. He notices every uncomfortable shift, or repositioning of his hands, or sharp glance in Vanitas’s direction. He’s got such a weird look on his face, too.  
  
Riku keeps glancing over, and it pricks Vanitas’s skin. “What is it?”  
  
“Your hair is too dark.”  
  
For a moment, Vanitas is too stunned to speak. “ _Excuse_ _me_?”  
  
“I should’ve brought something for it,” he sighs, and completely ignores Vanitas’s glare. “Too late now.”  
  
What’s with this guy? He’s so hung up on Vanitas’s hair color, of all things? It’s strange, like a rumor often heard along the back alleys and beneath the overpass. “Oh, wait. So _you’re_ the one who makes all the blonde guys wear wigs. I’ve heard about you.” Riku doesn’t react at all. Vanitas leers closer. “So, what? You just ain’t into blondes?”  
  
“Let’s say that I’m not.”  
  
“What’s that supposed to mean?”  
  
“It means what it means.”  
  
 _You’re a joy to talk to._ But Vanitas doesn’t say it. He doesn’t give Riku the satisfaction of a snappy comeback. He goes back to staring out the window at nothing.  
  
And falls asleep.  
  
Vanitas suddenly comes to when he feels the car stop. He rubs the lines from his face and groans. Is it a pit stop? How long was he asleep? He glances to Riku and sees that he’s wearing that weird soft look again.  
  
“Come on. You have to see this.”  
  
This is worse than whiplash. “Where are we?” They’ve stopped on a bridge, from what Vanitas can tell.  
  
“You’ll see,” Riku grins, and pulls an old Polaroid camera from the backseat; the kind that immediately spits out a little square photo as soon as it’s shot. Vanitas isn’t sure he’s ever seen one in person before. Riku steps out of the car and moves to the edge of the bridge.  
  
Vanitas has no idea what’s going on. His mind is still foggy with sleep. He carefully gets out of the car as well, stretching his legs with a satisfying _snap_.  
  
“Come on, Sora. We’ll never make it to the lighthouse if you don’t hurry up.”  
  
 _Sora?_ “It’s Vanitas,” he corrects, not that Riku ever asked. It didn’t occur to Vanitas that he never gave it until now. He’s gotten used to no one asking for his name.  
  
Riku twitches, but doesn’t stumble. “Come here.” His voice has gained an edge.  
  
Maybe he’s imagining things. He heads over to where Riku stands waiting, and sees this isn’t really a bridge, after all. It’s more of a scenic overlook. A river has carved a deep swathe in the desert mountains, leaving a steep drop and a gorgeous lake at the bottom of the gorge. Vanitas doesn’t know if it’s natural or the result of a dam, but he’s definitely never seen anything like it. “Whoa.”  
  
“What did I tell you?” Riku nudges, so proud of himself. He suddenly pulls Vanitas closer and lifts the old camera into the air. “Now, come on.”  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
“You do know what a photo is, right?” he asks, that edge slipping into his voice again. His arm falls across Vanitas’s shoulders a little too firmly. “So, smile, okay?”  
  
He does, and Riku takes the photo. The shutter is loud, and then the camera spits out the undeveloped photograph.  
  
Riku frowns as the picture comes into view. “Can’t you at least try?”  
  
Vanitas snarls. “I’m not an actor, ya know.”  
  
“I’m paying you, aren’t I?”  
  
Fine. _Fine_. Whatever. He just has to survive, right? This job is going to save him. He just has to make it, and then he’ll be free from all of this.  
  
Vanitas swallows his burning pride, and smiles a wide, toothy grin. “How’s this?”  
  
Riku takes the photo again, and his own grin dies with the sound of the camera shutter. “It doesn’t suit you.”  
  
“Then don’t ask me to do it,” he mutters.  
  
  
-  
  
  
The sun has been down for two hours by the time they pull into a small roadside motel. It’s pretty unassuming; neither the nicest nor crummiest place Vanitas has ever stayed. But as long as there’s a bed, he’ll take it. Trying to sleep in the car again only gave him a crick in his neck.  
  
The room has a bed and a bathroom and that’s all that matters. Vanitas cleans himself up and pulls off his shirt and jeans. He’d rather shower _after_ sleeping in a strange bed. Maybe it’s just a force of habit.  
  
Riku sits on his side of the bed and holds out a t-shirt. “Here.”  
  
“Nah. Don’t need it.”  
  
“What are you talking about? You always sleep in a t-shirt.”  
  
“The hell I do,” Vanitas retorts, and Riku gives him a look. It’s a hard stare obscured by layers and layers of something else and Vanitas can’t read any of it. This isn’t the first time he’s seen that look, either. He’s too tired and it’s too much trouble to argue, so he relents. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.” He takes the shirt and pulls it on. It’s almost too tight to be considered a sleep shirt.  
  
Riku doesn’t say thank you, or okay, or anything at all as Vanitas climbs under the covers next to him. It’s like laying next to a statue.  
  
“Why are you so particular about everything?” Vanitas grumbles. _Isn’t this just a stupid act? A show you’re putting on for yourself for a good laugh?_ “Is it really so important?”  
  
Riku says nothing.  
  
“Hmph.” Vanitas turns over and faces the wall.  
  
 _Well, whatever_.

_What a weird guy._  
  
Riku doesn’t move. He stays laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling like he probably does every night. The room is quiet despite the highway just outside. “Have you ever been in love?” he suddenly asks.  
  
Vanitas pulls the bed sheets closer. “Can’t say that I have.”  
  
Riku laughs through his nose, but it doesn’t sound like he’s smiling. “Lucky you.”  
  
  
-  
  
  
Vanitas wakes to fingers sliding softly through his hair.  
  
“Hey… Wake up.”  
  
He groans and presses his face into the pillow.  
  
“It’s morning.”  
  
Another groan. His eyes crack open to Riku smiling gently at him from the side of the bed.  
  
“There you are,” he chuckles. “What do you want for breakfast?”  
  
“Huh?” Vanitas crinkles his nose. What sort of game is Riku playing? “You’re asking me?”  
  
“I don’t see anyone else here.”  
  
No one’s ever asked him that question before. Is there… a wrong answer? Vanitas chews on his lip. Riku brushes the hair from his sleep-crusted eyes. “Pancakes,” he decides.  
  
That answer seems to fit whatever tableau Riku has built in his head, because his smile grows warm. “Sounds good.”  
  
That’s lucky. Vanitas was only speaking for himself.  
  
Those fingers are still running through his hair. Sleep comes creeping back in. “Come on, or I’ll leave without you.”  
  
Vanitas sits up and bats his hands away. “You wouldn’t dare.” Riku laughs and goes to pack his things. Vanitas tugs on the collar of the sleep shirt, uncomfortably tight around his throat. There’s already some clothes laid out for him at the foot of the bed.  
  
He emerges from the motel into a bright, sunny morning. It’s still pretty early, the sun hasn’t had a chance to burn off the initial chill, and Vanitas is thankful for the warmth of the snug jean jacket. In the morning light, he can clearly see the mountain range looming close in the distance, standing between them and the coast. He didn’t realize they’d traveled so far. It was too dark to see anything along the boring highway at night. Maybe today he’ll have a little more scenery.  
  
Riku is already waiting outside, wearing the ugliest jacket Vanitas has ever seen. It’s all clashing colors and mismatched patterns. It had to be a gift. Who would own such a thing on purpose?  
  
Riku drives like he already has a restaurant in mind, deliberately passing several places to a small diner on the side of the highway that has seen better days. The paint on the outside is chipping and there are weeds sprouting through the cracks in the pavement. A well-worn statue of the chain’s crow mascot stands near the entrance, and Riku insists on another photograph.  
  
Vanitas shrugs and follows directions. It’s not worth the fight. He hasn’t even had any coffee yet. So he listens. Favor the right leg. Arms behind his head. Big, goofy grin.  
  
“Come on, Sora. You can do better than that.”  
  
There it is again. That name. Vanitas smiles the best he can. His face hurts. He’s not used to this.  
  
The camera shutter sounds. Riku seems satisfied with it, and Vanitas releases his breath, dropping back into his normal posture.  
  
The question still lays heavy on his tongue. _Who is Sora?_ But he can’t bring himself to ask it.  
  
 _Ah, well._ It doesn’t really matter.  
  
They go inside for breakfast. Finally. The coffee is garbage and the pancakes are nothing special. But it had to be _here_. Vanitas would be glad they got pancakes at all, but he has a feeling his choice didn’t really matter. He just happened to come up with the right answer. Maybe he’s finally figuring out the part Riku wants him to play.  
  
That doesn’t matter either. He’ll take what he can get. He finishes quickly and sneaks outside to have a cigarette so he doesn’t have to listen to the lecture.  
  
Then they’re back in the car once again. Thankfully, the road begins to twist and bend as they reach the mountains, rocks and earth crammed together in tight folds. Life sprouts between the crevasses, becoming more and more green the farther they go. Soon there’s nothing to see but trees and bare rock faces.  
  
Vanitas has a feeling Riku planned this trip down to the mile. It’s too deliberate. He has to have every meal, venture, and pit stop mapped out in his head. Vanitas wonders why, but doesn’t care enough to ask.  
  
He rolls the window down despite the lingering chill, enjoying the cool mustiness of the forest air. It’s much better than the overbearing heat in the desert.  
  
“Aren’t you cold?” Riku asks, and once again Vanitas wonders why he cares.  
  
“I like the breeze.”  
  
Riku leaves it at that. They drive a while longer, until they’re deep into the mountains, and Riku pulls over along some park or trail. Must be another of his planned stops. Vanitas wasn’t even restless yet, but he won’t object to stretching his legs.  
  
Riku already has the old Polaroid hanging from his neck as they climb out of the car.  
  
Vanitas leans against the car door. There’s a sign posted before the trail. “A waterfall, huh?”  
  
“It’s a short walk.”  
  
“Up a mountainside,” he adds, shifting uneasily in his pair of old sneakers. They’re so worn out that the sole is completely smooth. “I don’t exactly have the right shoes for a hike.”  
  
He expects Riku to remind him that he’s being paid to play a part, but Riku lowers his head. “Come on,” he sighs.  
  
Vanitas can’t say no to such a pathetic tone. He can’t think of a good _way_ to say no that’s better than just going along with it. He is getting paid for this. Might as well have some fun. “Alright,” he concedes, gently smoothing the creases in Riku’s ugly jacket. He stands close and magnetized, like a lover should. He hopes his smile is convincing enough. “Let’s go.”  
  
His shock vanishes behind his own fake smile. He leads the way to the trail, a path of dirt and rocks nestled between the trees. Some parts have been outfitted with steps to ease the steep incline. It may not be a long walk, but that doesn’t mean it’s an easy one. Vanitas is out of breath by the time they reach the end. He should’ve known better than to try and keep up with Riku’s long legs.  
  
A metal suspension bridge stands before the falls, crossing the ravine below. The rushing water is loud and bursts into a cool mist that feels good on Vanitas’s sweat-slicked face. Riku tells him to go first across the bridge. It shakes and swings far more than Vanitas would like, but he goes forward. He gets to the halfway point and pauses, watching the water tumble down the mountainside in a deafening roar. He shuts his eyes to feel the mist coat his skin. The air is cool and smells like damp leaves and rich, dark soil and late spring and wildflowers. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.  
  
The shutter of the old camera carries over the roar of the waterfall. Vanitas’s attention is dragged back to where Riku is standing; only a few steps away with a grin on his face and the camera pointed at Vanitas. “Perfect,” he says, and tucks the photo into his pocket.  
  
Vanitas sticks out his tongue. “You’re a regular photographer.”  
  
“You give me a lot of practice.”  
  
What a sap. Vanitas can’t backtalk such earnestness, so he keeps on wearing that lover’s smile. “Shouldn’t you take pictures of the waterfall instead?”  
  
Riku considers that for just a moment. “Nah. Don’t want to.”  
  
The mist falls across Vanitas’s skin like pinpricks. He shifts his weight and the bridge swings from the momentum. It’s uncomfortable standing here. “We should go before we’re soaked.” He wants off the bridge. His feet move hastily, and the slick, nonexistent tread on his shoes slides on the wet metal floor. “Whoa!”  
  
Riku catches him before he falls—on his ass or off the bridge—like it’s nothing. “Careful!” Vanitas’s hands dig into the fabric of that hideous jacket. He tries to catch his breath while Riku places him back on his feet. “You okay?”  
  
“It’s nothing,” he bites, still clinging to Riku’s arms. “I told you I didn’t have the right shoes for this.”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“Let’s just go.” There’s not enough space on the bridge for Vanitas to slide by, so Riku has to take the lead back to solid ground, back the way they came. They take it slow to avoid any more slip-ups.  
  
Riku keeps watching him as they descend the slope. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little rattled.”  
  
Vanitas huffs. If he’d fallen off that bridge, he would’ve certainly died. Wouldn’t that rattle anyone? He keeps his attention focused on the ground. “It’s fine.” Riku’s hand wraps firmly around his. “What are you doing?”  
  
“The soil is loose.”  
  
“I said it’s fine.”  
  
He hums like he agrees, but doesn’t let go.  
  
  
-  
  
  
“You planning on driving all the way to the Cape?”  
  
“Yeah,” Riku answers simply.  
  
Vanitas watches the trees blur past the window. He spots houses nestled into the folds of the mountains and wonders what it’s like to live there, so removed from everything. “That’s a long way for just one person.”  
  
“What would you suggest? Letting you drive?”  
  
“Me? Nah. I ain’t got a license.”  
  
Riku sighs, “Then why did you ask?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he grumbles, and readjusts himself in the seat before he fuses to it. “Just trying to make conversation. It gets boring just sitting here.”  
  
“What are we supposed to talk about?”  
  
“How should I know?” _This is **your** show, remember? _“What do _lovers_ normally talk about?”  
  
Riku puts on the smallest smirk. “Nothing, really. Or anything.” Vanitas has no clue what that means. “We—they can talk about nothing for hours. About ideas, or plans…” He glances over and spies Vanitas’s puzzled stare. “It’s hard to explain.”  
  
“Plans, huh?” Vanitas muses. “I bet you have this entire trip planned down to the mile.”  
  
“Maybe. More or less.”  
  
“You’re pretty meticulous.”  
  
He seems surprised by that. “You think so? I don’t know if I’d call myself that.”  
  
“What would you call it?”  
  
Riku shrugs. “I don’t know. Probably reckless.”  
  
That’s absurd! Vanitas explodes with laughter at the thought of it. “ _You_? Reckless? You gotta be kidding!”  
  
“You really have no idea,” he grimaces. It looks like it’s supposed to be a grin. “If I started listening to my head instead of my heart, it’d probably save me a lot of trouble…”  
  
Vanitas huffs. “I try not to think too hard about anything.”  
  
“And how’s that working for you?”  
  
“It got me stuck in a car with some lunatic for four days; who, for all I know, is planning on murdering me and tossing my body into the ocean.”  
  
Riku slumps over the steering wheel and groans. “I told you: I’m not going to murder you.”  
  
Vanitas clicks his tongue. “Well, it would really spice up this road trip if you did.”  
  
“So that’s what you want?” He finally manages to chuckle. “You want me to smother you in your sleep? Drown you in a motel bathtub?”  
  
“A crime of passion, huh? That’s not half-bad.”  
  
“And you call _me_ a lunatic.”  
  
Vanitas shrugs. “I’m a romantic. What can I say?” Outside the window, the forest opens up as they begin descending along the other side of the mountain range.  
  
“I don’t know if I believe that,” Riku remarks.  
  
“Yeah… I don’t really know, either.” He stretches out the best he can in the cramped car cabin. _Now_ he’s getting restless. He’s pretty sure his ass is asleep.  
  
Thankfully, they take another break once they reach the foot of the mountain. They stop for fuel and snacks for the road. Riku stretches and has some coffee. Vanitas sneaks another smoke break around the side of the convenience store. He returns to the car to find Riku’s left him a bottle of orange soda and a pack of sour gummi worms in his seat. Vanitas doesn’t know if it’s another part of Riku’s planned road trip or just a lucky guess, but he gladly accepts the snacks.  
  
Then they’re back in the car again; speaking every now and then about nothing important, and driving until the sun sets. They grab a quick dinner and stop at another roadside motel. The exhaustion makes it a little easier for Vanitas to go along with all the particular little details of Riku’s plan. It takes the petty fight right out of him. If Vanitas pretends to not notice all the weirdness, he can fall asleep next to Riku as if nothing is wrong.  
  
  
-  
  
  
The next morning starts the same way. Day Three. Vanitas is surprised he’s made it this far without completely losing it.  
  
They left the mountains and foothills behind yesterday, so now there’s not a lot for Vanitas to look at besides trees and rolling hills and billboards for places still hundreds of miles away. Eventually the hills will turn to flat plains, and the plains will turn to sea. But not for another day. Out of everything, the fact that Riku insists on _driving_ to the Cape is still the craziest part.  
  
The long moments of nothing and silence are the worst. Vanitas grows restless in the passenger’s seat with only the same scenery to see and no conversation and the radio constantly tuning in and out and being just loud enough to notice but not hear. He plays a stupid game on his phone that inevitably drains the battery, and then he’s stuck here again, tapping his foot and getting a crick in his neck.  
  
The barely-audible radio picks up a new frequency, and it’s playing something Vanitas actually recognizes. He tells Riku to turn the volume up.  
  
“I can hear it just fine,” Riku shrugs.  
  
“The point of music isn’t to _hear_ it, it’s to _listen_ to it.” Riku only looks confused, and Vanitas clicks his tongue. “Why the hell are we here if we aren’t going to have some fucking _fun_?” And he cranks the radio so loud he can’t hear Riku’s objections. It’s an old rock song; something timeless that everyone knows like it’s carved into their bones. The guitar solo comes up, and Vanitas’s fingers tap frantically against empty air. He never learned how to play a real guitar, anyway.  
  
Riku at least waits until the song is over before turning the volume back down. He seems amused. “Okay, I get it. You want the music up.”  
  
“Wow, what tipped you off?” he mocks, but Riku doesn’t honor it with a response. Vanitas turns sideways in his seat to face him better. “Do you not like music or something?”  
  
“It’s not that.”  
  
“So there _is_ an underlying reason.”  
  
Riku literally and figuratively bites his tongue. “I just don’t go out of my way to listen to it.”  
  
Vanitas considers that answer, and wonders if he cares enough to press it. “Why?”  
  
His mouth forms a straight line. “I’m tone deaf.”  
  
 _That’s a lie_. It’s such a bad lie. So bad that Vanitas can’t call him out on it. He doesn’t care enough to go digging up something Riku is so clearly desperate to keep covered. It must be a bad memory or association. Vanitas lets it go and takes his victory of finally getting the radio to an audible level.  
  
Riku is lost in his thoughts again, staring vacantly at the road. He’ll be no good conversation for a while. Vanitas goes back to looking out the window to pass the time. He has it rolled down to feel the breeze, but today it’s hot and muggy. The hills have flattened since this morning. They’re so close to the end Vanitas can almost smell the salt in the air.  
  
He sticks his arm out the window to feel the wind between his fingers. The music rolls over him. He cups the rushing air in his hands like he could scoop out the humidity and drink it in. The highway is bordered by nothing but squat trees and marshlands, and the ever-present sounds of crickets and birds and cicadas. He didn’t know the middle of nowhere could be so loud. If only he could rip the roof off this car and surround himself with it.  
  
Farther along the highway is another town, surrounded by endless fields and marsh. It’s a small, nowhere town who’s only noteworthy by being along a highway that leads to a tourist destination. There’s a surprising amount of traffic crowding the streets today, though. The air is saturated with the smell of fried food and hay. Vanitas folds his arms over the car door and leans out the window, trying to decipher exactly what’s being fried, but it could be anything.  
  
“Looks like some kind of festival,” Riku sighs. He’s probably worried all the traffic will eat away at their time.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t really mind. “Smells like it, too.”  
  
They crawl a few more blocks, but traffic isn’t letting up. The town has several streets blocked off for whatever event is happening. Stalls and food trucks and tents are lined up everywhere. Vanitas reads a sign for an annual harvest festival. That must be it.  
  
But they’re still getting nowhere, and Vanitas can feel hunger starting to gnaw away at his insides.  
  
Riku’s fingers tap impatiently on the steering wheel. “I was going to stop for lunch on the other side of town.”  
  
Sounds like the scent of fried food is getting to him too. “And how long do you think that’ll take?”  
  
“I have no idea.”  
  
Vanitas gestures out the window. “Let’s just take advantage of the situation.”  
  
“I knew you’d say that,” he huffs.  
  
“You _lead_ me into saying it!”  
  
“That’s fair.” He doesn’t fight anymore, and takes a decent but memorable parking spot along the side of the road. The downtown area isn’t much, so they can’t possibly have to walk far.  
  
Vanitas steps onto the sidewalk and feels his legs come back to life.  
  
Riku follows close behind. He slides on a pair of sunglasses that really don’t suit his face. But it’s nothing compared to the grotesque jacket that’s still laying in the backseat, so Vanitas decides to let it slide for now.  
  
There are enough people milling about in the streets for it to be considered a crowd. They don’t have to push their way through, but there are still lines standing in front of everything.  
  
Most of the stalls are selling deep-fried pastries stuffed with local fruit. Specifically peaches, which are apparently in season. The first thing Vanitas gets his hands on is some kind of turnover that’s so overflowing with syrup and filling they have to serve it in a bowl. It’s sugary and juicy and sticky, and it’ll sit so heavily on his stomach that he’ll end up skipping lunch entirely at this rate.  
  
It’s around bite five or six that he realizes how damn _sweet_ it is. Sickeningly sweet. They even topped it with more sugar!  
  
Vanitas suddenly hands the half-empty bowl over to Riku. “Here. Take it.”  
  
“Is there something wrong with it?”  
  
“No, it’s delicious. But if I eat any more of it I’m gonna be sick.”  
  
Riku gets that weird, soft look again, and he chuckles. “Sure thing.” He has a bite and makes a face. “Yeah, that’s really sweet.”  
  
Vanitas twirls his plastic fork between sticky fingers. “I’m surprised there’s any fruit in it at all. It smells like they’re just making funnel cake.”  
  
Riku gives a noncommittal nod. There’s no recognition in his eyes as he continues munching on the peach turnover sugar-bomb.  
  
Vanitas watches him closely. “Wait… you’ve never had funnel cake before?”  
  
Riku sends him a look. “It’s just fried dough, isn’t it?” That tone is laughably defensive.  
  
“Some of the best things in life are fried dough, I’ll have you know.”  
  
“Is that right?”  
  
“It is. Now c’mon,” Vanitas suddenly grabs his arm and pulls him through the crowd.  
  
“Hey!” Riku protests, but he doesn’t pull himself free, either.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t let up. “We’re already here—might as well have some fun.”  
  
And he hears Riku smirk: “What happened to eating yourself sick?”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he retorts. “Aren’t we in a hurry?”  
  
“Somewhat.” He picks up the pace, easily matching Vanitas’s gait and walking close by his side. “But this clearly means a lot to you.”  
  
“Shut up before I jam this fork into your eye.”  
  
His laugh is soft as he links their arms. “You wouldn’t dare.”  
  
  
-  
  
  
They stop for the night about an hour after sundown. Looks like they made pretty good time, after all.  
  
It’s the same as all the other motels—clean and functional. This one is on the outskirts of a town with no defining characteristics. There’s a swimming pool sunk into the parking lot and a sports bar sitting next door. The pool is gated and deserted, and Vanitas keeps that in mind. The bar isn’t busy, and the patrons inside are probably locals. Vanitas and Riku walk over after checking into a room. Another planned meal at their designated pit stop. It’s too much trouble to worry about it.  
  
They order a margarita pitcher that Vanitas drinks his share of way too quickly. Not enough to make a fool of himself, but just enough to _feel something_. It’s barely strong enough for that. They eat their food with few words, too hungry or too tired to make conversation. They ran out of things to talk about miles ago.  
  
There’s a couple sitting across the bar from them who are clearly drunk and disgustingly engrossed with each other. They touch and laugh and kiss right at the table for everyone to see. It’s obnoxious. Vanitas thinks of throwing his fork at them. He didn’t ask to see that.  
  
He turns to complain to Riku about it, but it doesn’t look like Riku is paying any attention at all. He’s staring off into space above his empty plate, daydreaming again. Vanitas elbows his side. “Hey, you finished brooding? Let’s get outta here.”  
  
“What’s the hurry?”  
  
“I don’t remember paying for a show,” he mutters, and gestures across the bar.  
  
Riku doesn’t argue with that, but Vanitas has no idea what he’s feeling. There’s no expression on his face as they get up and leave. There are more important things to do, anyway.  
  
The swimming pool still sits in the parking lot between the restaurant and the motel. Vanitas has had his eye on it all night. “Check it out.” He tugs on the gate and finds it isn’t even locked.  
  
“Says it closes at sundown,” Riku remarks.  
  
Vanitas rolls his eyes. “You’re as dull as ever. C’mon.” He sneaks inside, and Riku follows close behind, stuttering his little objections.  
  
“Hey—you don’t even have a suit!”  
  
“So?”  
  
The look on Riku’s face says he knows _exactly_ what Vanitas is getting at. “Wait—!”  
  
“Who’s gonna know?” Vanitas counters, pulling off his clothes. “Besides, it’s not like they’ll kick us out. Have you seen this dump? They need the revenue.” Riku doesn’t answer, and Vanitas slips into the pool. It’s cool—almost cold—but he doesn’t mind it. “You joining me, or what?”  
  
“We shouldn’t…”  
  
Vanitas stands tall in the waist-high water, dim lights fighting through the gloom of this nowhere road stop and water shining on his bare chest. He tries on a smile, not the big goofy one that Riku makes him wear, but something a little more natural. Riku stands at the edge of the pool and his mouth is hanging open and for once Vanitas is sure he looks incredible. He holds out his hand. “C’mon, Riku. Live a little.”  
  
A blink. A thick gulp. Riku strips down to nothing and wades into the water with him, still looking like a gaping fish. His hand wraps around the one Vanitas offered. His arm tugs at Vanitas’s waist and pulls him close and suddenly the coldness of the water doesn’t matter anymore. He presses his face to Vanitas’s neck and sighs a shuddering breath. “Am I living yet?”  
  
Vanitas chuckles. His free hand instinctively searches over Riku’s body, the other caught in a vice of slender fingers. “You’re getting there.”  
  
Again, it sounds like he laughs, but his face doesn’t tense against Vanitas’s skin. He’s not smiling. Vanitas still doesn’t know what kind of parade this is supposed to be, but if it’s not bringing Riku joy, he can’t imagine why they keep doing it.  
  
Riku kisses his neck, the want clawing free from his chest like a caged beast. He’s big and docile in Vanitas’s arms, but like this, he looks emaciated.  
  
 _A lonely weirdo._  
  
 _Loneliness, huh…_  
  
 _That’s not so weird._  
  
Vanitas tilts his head back, inviting Riku in. Lips and teeth and tongue take bite after bite of his throat and chest. Their bodies slide softly together beneath the cool water. Warm skin and rough concrete. Riku holds him so close, like they could melt into one.  
  
They stay until the water is warm and their breath is heavy and a splash from the other side of the pool pulls them away from each other.  
  
The drunk couple from the restaurant next door are flinging off their clothes and giggling and stepping clumsily into the water. “Don’t mind us!” they whisper. “You lovebirds have the right idea!”  
  
Gaudy. Vanitas curls his lip. And he was actually starting to have fun, for once.  
  
Riku stares down at him, gaping like a fish once again. This time he’s seeing something different. “I… uh…” And he backs away, fingers trailing down Vanitas’s arm.  
  
 _Broken in two._ “Let’s just go,” Vanitas sighs. He’s not about to put on a show for an audience. It’s nothing but a show.  
  
“Right…”  
  
He climbs out of the water and marches for their clothes. He pulls on his jeans, still dripping wet and shivering in the night air.  
  
Riku stands next to him, fumbling with his own clothes and teeth already chattering. “You’re angry,” he remarks as he shrugs back into that hideous jacket.  
  
Maybe he is. “It’s nothing.” He uses his t-shirt to pat the water from his chest. He can hear the drunk couple sloshing around and laughing and god knows what else on the other end of the swimming pool. He doesn’t want to listen to it. He didn’t agree to being dragged into their little game. He slips into his shoes and heads back across the parking lot, socks and shirt and boxers in-hand.  
  
“Hey!” Riku whispers, and scrambles to catch up. He slides up beside Vanitas easily, with those long legs of his. “You _are_ angry.”  
  
“It was annoying.”  
  
“We could’ve ignored them.”  
  
Vanitas scoffs. “Like you could ignore a clumsy display like that.” A _show_ for no one’s benefit. It’s not _business;_ it’s _bragging_.  
  
“Maybe not,” Riku admits. “I’m surprised it bothers you so much, considering what you do for a living.”  
  
Vanitas shoves him in the chest. “You think I wanted to be this!? I—I was…” Damn. His throat is closing up. How shameful for him to let _Riku_ drag these feelings out of him. His throat is burning, eyes stinging. “No—never mind. Forget it.” He turns away. He needs some air. The parking lot reeks of greasy spoon restaurants and exhaust, but—  
  
Riku’s hand latches onto his wrist, firm but not forceful. “What is it?” he asks, and his voice is strange. Different. He’s never spoken to Vanitas like that before. “What was it that you wanted?”  
  
“It’s nothing,” he rubs at his eyes. He’ll be _damned_ if he lets Riku see him cry.  
  
“What was your dream?”  
  
 _A dream._ That’s all it was, after all. Nothing but a load of wasted time. A twisted fucking spiral that Vanitas realized too late was too steep to climb. “I… I wanted to be an actor. I wanted to really act. As an art.”  
  
“You wanted to be in movies?”  
  
He sneers. “It was nothing grandiose like that… It didn’t matter if it was stage or film, I… just wanted to do it.”  
  
“That’s a far cry from being an escort.”  
  
 _A **whore**. Just say it!_  
  
“You think I don’t know that?” Vanitas spits and reclaims his wrist. But he doesn’t run. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”  
  
Riku doesn’t move either. He stands so close, Vanitas can feel his body heat radiate against his back. “What happened?”  
  
Prying, and as unapologetic as ever. Vanitas smirks. Even in a situation like this… “I did whatever I could to get a foothold.” Riku does nothing but wait. The silence eats away at Vanitas until he can’t bear the void any longer. “Extra work. Dinner theatre. Cabaret… Eventually, one of the regulars at the cabaret pulled me aside. He was a film director, and he wanted me. How—how could I say no?” The quiet mounts once again. Chills run along Vanitas’s arms. “He made pornography. I didn’t mind. A job is a job, right?” He tries to laugh. It doesn’t work. “But it was after the cameras shut off… the postmortems, and long meetings in his office where you’d better come alone if you wanted to keep getting work and he _knew_ we were all desperate enough to listen to him so we’d do whatever filthy fucking thing he wanted and never say anything or else we’d get blacklisted—”  
  
Riku pulls Vanitas against his chest. He hadn’t even realized that he started shaking. Vanitas sucks in a breath through his teeth. It’s an act. It’s just an act. But it’s still so warm. His fingers curl into Riku’s ugly jacket.  
  
“The only way for me to get out was to ruin him, but I couldn’t even do that.” His chest hurts so much. “I was blacklisted. That bastard had friends all over the city. I couldn’t even get a job at a lousy dive bar… So I figured: if I’m going to get fucked, I might as well make some money out of it. It’s all I’m good for.”  
  
“I don’t think so,” Riku murmurs. “There’s still time. You can still find your dream. There’s lots of cities out there. I’m sure there’s a place for you.”  
  
His throat is aching. The tears just won’t stop. They’re hot and acidic down his face. “You’re so… full of shit.”  
  
“I mean it. Vanitas.”  
  
 _Vanitas_.  
  
He sobs bitterly into Riku’s chest, and he’s ashamed of it. Of everything.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Neither of them sleep that night, as far as Vanitas can tell. He lays there with his eyes closed for the longest time, completely still and begging for sleep to take him, but the night drags on. He hears Riku toss and turn and occasionally get up to pace around the motel room. They don’t acknowledge each other, though it’s probably obvious that Vanitas isn’t asleep either. Vanitas prefers it that way. Riku digs quietly through his luggage for a while before returning to bed and trying again.  
  
Nothing changes as the sun rises. Vanitas pulls the covers over his head to filter out the light.  
  
Riku gives up not long after. He climbs out of bed and goes through his morning routine. He says something about going to grab breakfast and fuel before they check out, knowing Vanitas is already awake.  
  
Vanitas hears him leave, still no closer to finding sleep. He has no choice but to get up. He washes his face with cold water and gets dressed. There was a chill in the air last night, so he pulls on the jean jacket, just in case. He gathers his things with sluggish and uninterested hands.  
  
Riku’s luggage is still in a mess from his sleepless rummaging. There’s something the size of a cigar box sitting atop whatever clothes are still left in his suitcase. It’s just an unmarked box. Weird. Vanitas has never seen it before. Maybe this is what Riku was looking for last night.  
  
Vanitas inches closer. He shouldn’t snoop around. The box is in his hands. It’s light, but there’s definitely something inside. He pops open the lid and finds a collection of photographs. Polaroid photos of Riku and some tanned, brunette, blue-eyed boy who looks scarily like Vanitas. Their smiles are bright and genuine and full of so much _love_. One photo depicts the same diner Riku insisted they visit two days ago, wearing the same ugly jacket. The back reads: _‘Riku & Sora; Crow’s Nest Diner.’ _The timestamp is from exactly three years ago.  
  
Vanitas feels the bile rising in his throat. So, this is Sora. He doesn’t understand. What is all of this?  
  
The places. The clothes. All of it. All of it! The entire road trip. They’ve done it all before. So, why? Vanitas digs through the photographs, but there are no photos of Riku and Sora at the lighthouse on the cape.  
  
The latest timestamp is from the seventh. A quick internet search of Sora’s name for that date only brings up a short news blurb and an obituary.  
  
And Vanitas feels sick. _Sick_ for looking through these photos. _Dirty_ for unknowingly retreading Sora’s footsteps. _Used_ for being a replacement in a fantasy.  
  
It was an aneurysm. A silent, ticking time bomb in Sora’s head that went off at the worst possible time. He was pronounced dead at the scene, lifeless in Riku’s arms. They were hours from their destination.  
  
Anger trembles though Vanitas’s hands. The pictures he and Riku took over the last few days are nothing but cheap recreations. Riku staged them down to the pose. It’s twisted.  
  
Vanitas rips the jean jacket off of himself. _Sora’s_ jacket. These ill-fitting clothes have all been _Sora’s_.  
  
Riku returns to the room, and all Vanitas can say is “What the fuck?”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
He throws the photos onto the table, both new and old. Vanitas’s strained grin against Sora’s brilliant, sincere smile. The love and light in Riku’s eyes diminished to ashes. “Is this… what I am to you?” His voice is trembling. “Just a surrogate for your dead boyfriend? What sort of sick game are you playing?”  
  
Riku’s face is steely. “You took the job.”  
  
“I didn’t agree to _this_!” he shouts. “This fucked up little charade you’re pulling! I didn’t agree to play the role of a dead man and satisfy your pathetic whims—”  
  
“And you took the money,” he states. His eyes never leave the table of photos. “You were paid for a service. Shouldn’t you know how this works by now?”  
  
Those words are knives, but Vanitas’s fury burns away any tears that may come. “You’re insane. You’re pretending I’m Sora and dragging me along your little road trip. It’s not gonna change anything, you know. At the end of all this, Sora will still be dead, and I’m still not gonna be him. You’re not helping anyone this way.”  
  
Riku snorts. “Who said anything about helping anyone?”  
  
“I thought you were better than this.”  
  
“I could say the same to you,” he mutters. Vanitas’s hands curl into fists. Riku leaves the table and goes to his suitcase. He digs inside and produces a stuffed manila envelope that he throws at Vanitas’s feet. “There. The other four-thousand. Now you don’t have any reason to stay.”  
  
“ _What_?”  
  
“Get out of here. Go home. Go wherever. I don’t care. Just get out. I don’t want to look at your face anymore.”  
  
“As long as you remember that it’s _my_ face! It’s always been my face. You’re the one who chose to ignore that.”  
  
Riku returns to the table, slowly gathering the discarded photos with delicate fingers. His hands cherish the ones with Sora first.  
  
Vanitas lowers his head. This is pathetic. He doesn’t want to see this. “You couldn’t have possibly thought that it was gonna be the same? That this was actually gonna work?” It’s so damn pathetic he wants to spit it out. “Idiot. An act is always gonna be an act. When things go to shit that’s just the way it is.”  
  
“Why are you still here?” That voice is dead. “You got your money.”  
  
Of course. Picked up, played with, and let go. It’s always the same. No pleasantries. No eye contact. Just shame. Vanitas snatches up the envelope and stuffs it into his backpack. “What a joke.” He storms from the motel room and slams the door behind him until the windows rattle. He’s walking so fast he hears wind in his ears.  
  
There was a bus station in the last town. He can walk, or hitchhike, or whatever he has to do. Vanitas has always done whatever it takes to survive. He’s always trying to go forward.  
  
There’s no way he could bear to stand there any longer, watching Riku tape together a pathetic vignette of lost love. As if that could somehow make him just as happy as he was before, or even a little bit happy, or just ease the ache for a moment. He needs to let it go. This meandering road trip of his… Sora will never be able to finish the journey with him, no matter how hard he tries. No amount of love or wishing will bring him back.  
  
 _Sora can’t do it._  
  
Vanitas’s legs suddenly halt. He stands unmoving on the sidewalk, fingers knotted in his shirt and thoughts running dizzy circles in his head.  
  
 _I can’t do this_.  
  
 _I know it’s just an act._

_I knew that—_

_But, still…  
  
This fire… this burning in my stomach won’t go away.  
  
I knew it.  
  
I **knew—**  
  
But I…  
  
I’m such a fool.  
  
  
-  
  
  
_ “What are you doing here?”  
  
Vanitas leans up off the side of the car. Riku stands there, face gaunt and tired, with his bag slung over his shoulder and tacky sunglasses on his head . Just like he always has. His eyes are empty and cold. The face of a man who’s had his l ight torn away so many times, until there’s nothing left but the crumbling earth of himself.  
  
“I’ve paid you already. You should have plenty of money to get back, or go wherever you want. I don’t care.” _  
_  
Vanitas sighs to the pavement. His fists clench tightly within his jacket pockets. “Let’s finish this.”  
  
Riku reels back like that’s the most absurd thing he’s ever heard in his life. “There’s no point. It was nothing but a stupid charade to begin with.”  
  
“You’re right. It was. But we’ve already made it this far. Let’s finish it.”  
  
“Like you said: it’s not going to change anything. Reliving my last week with Sora isn’t going to bring him back. It’s done nothing but open up old wounds.”  
  
Vanitas shrugs. “Maybe. But you didn’t finish it back then, either. You never made it to the lighthouse .”  
  
Riku’s eyes turn hot and sharp. “What’s your point?”  
  
“Let’s go do it. Even if it’s not with Sora, you can still finish the trip. That’s all you really want, isn’t it?”  
  
“I wanted to remember. I wanted to _pretend_ .”  
  
Vanitas waves his hand. “Sorry, but I already told you: I’m a lousy actor.”  
  
“You—”  
  
“I’m sick of _pretending_ .” He takes two sure steps forward to close the distance between them, and grabs Riku by the lapels of his coat. “ I want to finish this!” He’ll shake him unconscious if he has to!  
  
Riku nervously wets his lips. His eyes search through Vanitas’s fire. “Why?”  
  
“You hired me to go with you to the lighthouse . I won’t let you back-out halfway. You’ve already dragged me into your unfinished emotional charade, now own up to it. Finish it!”  
  
“It won’t… it won’t change anything.”  
  
Vanitas growls and brings their lips together. It’s so clumsy and sudden, more teeth than kiss, but Vanitas makes sure his feelings are made clear. “Something will change. It’s gotta change eventually. This won’t end unless you end it.”  
  
“Vanitas, I…”  
  
“I want to see this through. Don’t you? Hasn’t this gone on long enough?”  
  
Riku swallows back his words. The agony is clear on his face. His voice is barely above a whisper: “But what will I do once it’s over?”  
  
“There’s lots of cities out there. I’m sure there’s a place for sentimental assholes like you.”  
  
He rubs furiously at his eyes. It looks like he’s trying to smile, but he only grinds his teeth. “Go to hell.”  
  
“After you,” Vanitas sneers.  
  
At last, a grin appears on Riku’s face, warm and challenging while his heart is laid bare. “It’s a long drive.”  
Vanitas plucks the tacky sunglasses from Riku’s head and slips them on. A glance at the passenger’s side window shows they suit Vanitas’s face much better. “Good thing I’ve got nowhere to be.”  
  
  
-  
  
  
The lighthouse is farther from the shore than Vanitas thought it would be. It looks like the sand had eroded too much, and they were forced to move the entire structure farther inland. There’s an obvious crater near the beach from where it used to stand, only two years ago.  
  
Vanitas follows Riku onto the beach. They walk along the shoreline in silence, pulling their jackets close . T he wind is cold. Vanitas can’t remember the last time he saw the sea. He stays far enough behind Riku to give him some space, but close enough to read every twitching shoulder and clenching fist he makes. And when he stops moving, Vanitas slowly creeps closer. Riku glances over as if he were expecting him.  
  
Vanitas doesn’t smile. He can’t . It doesn’t suit him, after all. “We made it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Riku chokes out. “ Finally. ” His eyes trail up to the top of the lighthouse, too far from shore to properly see. Its flashing beacon peaks out just above the trees and sand dunes.  
  
Vanitas turns to the sea. The sun should be setting soon. Everything is painted in greys and golds.  
  
"I was going to propose to him here. Right on this beach.” He pulls something from his pocket and holds it against his chest. Vanitas can only assume it’s a ring. Riku’s breath runs wild in the salty breeze. “Sora loved the beach.”  
  
Vanitas watches the waves gently kiss the shore. Foam and sand tucked away beneath the surface . The tide is going out. “Yeah… I don’t mind it, either.”  
  
Riku sits down onto the sand, or falls to his knees. He sighs, or sobs. Vanitas doesn’t know. He shuts his eyes to the horizon and pretends to not notice, focusing on the wind in his ears.  
  
  
-  
  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Vanitas almost falls over. He stares at Riku with his mouth agape. Out of everything, n o one has ever _thanked_ him before. He doesn’t know what to do. What does he say? What the fuck does he say?  
  
Riku carries the conversation along. The PA system announces a list of boarding flights and last-minute gate changes. “Are you catching a flight back?”  
  
His hands tighten around the straps of his backpack. “No.” There’s nothing for him there. There never was. He stuffed everything he cared about into this bag, and that didn’t even fill it halfway.  
  
“I see,” is all Riku says. It seems he already understands. “I hope… you find your place.”  
  
“Yeah. Me too.” Vanitas can’t even look at him. He can’t think of anything to say. Hasn’t it already been spelled out clear on his chest?  
  
Riku nods. It’s stiff and awkward. “Well… Good luck.” He turns to go, and Vanitas’s hand instantly darts out and grab s his sleeve.  
  
 _Why?_  
  
Their eyes meet, but it’s not like before. Riku’s eyes have never been so clear. Vanitas releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding, gaze dropping to his fingers still clinging tightly to Riku’s sleeve. “Thank you .”  
  
Is that it? Is that what he’s supposed to say?  
  
Riku laughs through his nose. Slender fingers slide through Vanitas’s hair, and he jerks . Riku is actually smiling this time. It’s not big and bright and overflowing with love, but it’s there, and i t’s warm. Vanitas’s heart is a mess.  
  
“See you around.”  
  
 _No, you won’t._  
  
His sleeve slips from Vanitas’s fingers. “Yeah,” Vanitas coughs. “See you.”  
  
Riku’s flight is boarding soon. He leaves to return to a broken city Vanitas vows to never see again.  
  
 _Goodbye._

**Author's Note:**

> ♪Then we touched and went our separate ways♪
> 
> The premise of this fic is derivative; and based on a movie I watched on a whim several years ago. The "fake dating road trip" part is really all I can remember about it, which is fine. Road trip fics are also just... a lot of fun. Even if this isn't a particularly /happy/ one.
> 
> [@VaniVeniVici](https://twitter.com/VaniVeniVici)


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